


Hunter

by MotherOfCatsAndDragons



Category: Diablo II
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Blood, F/F, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:49:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherOfCatsAndDragons/pseuds/MotherOfCatsAndDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is filled with hatred, a force that drives her to hunt demons and surpass all odds. He is an angel, seeing through mortal eyes. As they journey towards Caldeum, Leah can't help but notice the tension between the two. If they weren't on the same side, she was almost sure they'd kill each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I: Friction

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write some Diablo smut. Yeah, shame on me. I know.

Her high-heeled boots clicked against the stony pavement and under the red hood her eyes shone a light green. “Stay back, Leah,” she commanded in a completely calm voice. However, beneath all the coolness, Leah knew there was hate. It was what fueled her, what fueled Shae. The huntress unfurled a crossbow from her back and loaded it with an explosive arrow. “These are mine.”

Even in the thin moonlight, Leah could see that under the shadowy hood, Shae was smiling. Granted, it was a wild, derisive smile, filled with mad and deep loathing, but it was the only smile Leah had ever seen on Shae’s lips.

Leah took a step back, making way for the huntress. The inn had been attacked by a group of fallen, two large overseers among them. Shae threw an arrow at them and it landed straight on the chest of one of the smaller demons. A few moments later, it exploded, sending demon parts flying across the air.

Shae had already moved on to another target, not even paying attention to the ones she’d attacked before. She drew a knife from her boot and threw it at an overseer while numbly dodging the rest.

Leah blinked. The way Shae moved in the midst of battle… it was intoxicating to watch. There was a beauty to it, a desperate, enthralling quality to the huntress’s fighting that Leah could not quite put her finger on. She had seen many people slaying demons—it was a part of her exploits with her now late uncle,—but _no one_ had done it the way Shae did. In front of her there was a massacre, dismembered demons and charred corpses everywhere, but Leah could not draw her eyes away from the Demon Hunter battling all alone.

“Shouldn’t we be helping her?” asked a deep voice behind her. Tyrael.

Leah didn’t look at the angel. The way Shae fought was like poetry and she desperately wanted to see the poem to an end. “She can handle them,” she whispered and wondered why she sounded as though she was out of breath. “She likes killing demons all by herself.”

Tyrael grunted and the young girl noticed a certain disapproval to it. “What is it?” she asked.

“She irradiates hatred,” the angel said. “And one day, it will consume her.”

Leah glanced at Tyrael for a moment, then turned her attention back to the fight. There was only one single fallen left. Demons weren’t very smart, Leah reckoned. If they were, there was no way that little thing would have run straight towards Shae. It would have run far, far away, to a place where she could not find it.

Well, Shae would inevitably find it. She never let any demon who crossed paths with her live, but it could have lived for a couple more days. Instead, it met its end at the point of one of Shae’s arrows—shot straight into its skull and exploding its head.

When Shae returned, there was no blood on her, not even a single drop. “That was fun,” she said. Her hood had fallen slightly and there was more of her face showing than normal. Shae seemed to notice as much, because she yanked the hood off her head and ran her fingers through her hair. “Is something troubling you, Leah? You’re awfully quiet,” she said, her voice deep and steady.

Leah’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “No, nothing. It’s just… the way you move… You were good before, but you’ve somehow gotten better.”

Shae gave her a one-shouldered shrug. “I’ve had a lot of training as of late.” She holstered her crossbow behind her back and counted the knives she had left on her boot. “I absolutely loathe those things.”

The huntress had spat out that last sentence and it reflected the hatred she felt towards demons. Leah felt Tyrael tense beside her and she looked up at his massive frame. The way he was looking at Shae… it didn’t bode well. “Let’s go back inside, shall we?” said Leah, hoping to dissolve the tension between the angel and the huntress.

Tyrael nodded, curtly. Shae didn’t even grace them with an expression; she just walked right inside without uttering a word. Leah followed her with Tyrael close behind. “Problem’s taken care of,” she heard Shae say. “But you really should hire better guards.”

The innkeeper, a stocky man with brown hair streaked with white, bowed and thanked Shae for her work, offering her and her companions the night and dinner for free.

“That is unnecessary,” said the huntress. She narrowed her eyes then, and in her eyes was the same pure, undiluted hatred that was in her voice. “All demons have to be killed.”

Leah had to admire Shae’s relentlessness and the abandon with which she threw herself in her hunt. The huntress’s determination was never-ending. She blushed slightly when Shae caught her gaze, embarrassed that she’d been caught looking at the other woman. “Come, Leah,” said Shae, beckoning her to step forward. “We haven’t eaten yet.”

 Leah followed the huntress to a table and sat beside her. Tyrael sat across from Shae, his eyes keen on her. The young girl felt a palpable tension forming between the other two. Shae was as taut as a bowstring and Tyrael’s jaw was tightly shut. A servant girl brought them mead and Shae leaned back on her chair, glass in hand, eyes never leaving Tyrael’s.

“You are filled with hatred, Hunter,” Tyrael stated. Those were the first words he’d uttered to Shae ever since they’d put her uncle to rest. Leah thought she’d heard a note of contempt in his voice. It was so… unlike an angel.

“Hate is what drives me to kill demons and eradicate evil,” Shae retorted, her voice smooth, like velvet. A corner of her full mouth lifted in defiance. “Is that not your goal? To eradicate evil?”

“Not if it means becoming evil itself,” the angel spat.

“I am not becoming such,” said the huntress.

“How can you be so sure?”

She leaned forward across the table, gloved hands stopping a mere inch from Tyrael’s body. Her face was close to his, so close that Leah was sure they could feel each other’s breath on their skin. They stood motionless, as they often did, for a while. Then, somehow, a dagger popped up between Shae and the angel, and she held it at her chest, pointy end digging into her chest armor. “The day I succumb to evil,” she hissed, “is the day I drive this knife through my heart.”

Leah believed her. Shae’s hatred was so deep, so true, that she would indeed kill herself before she let any demonic force consume her. Tyrael, however, did not ease. He just kept staring at Shae, her face still close to his. Then, expressionless, Shae sat back on her chair and drank from her mug.

The friction between huntress and angel was still there, however. Leah sighed. This was going to be a _very_ long journey to Caldeum.


	2. Dangerous Beauty

# II: Dangerous Beauty

 

 

Shae sat by the fire, hood down, the flickering light of the flames caressing her pale skin. On one of her hands was a cloth, stained pink in several places, and in the other was one of her crossbows which she was so attentively cleaning. That crossbow was stunning piece of weaponry, the wooden stock and sight covered by two pieces of intricately carved metal. The way Shae touched her weapon, even as she was cleaning it, was nothing but intimate. Her long fingers brushed the crossbow’s stock, tracing its contours with a lingering slowness.

Looking at the gentle touch with which Shae graced her weapons, a thought crossed Leah’s head. She found it weird—very weird, in fact,—that neither Lyndon nor Kormac nor any of the others who’d come after the fallen star seemed to have any interest in Shae beyond her Demon Hunting skills. Well, Lyndon had joked about it, but Leah had sensed that, if Shae had said yes, he wouldn’t have gone forward. Regardless, Shae was one of the most beautiful women Leah had ever seen and her body possessed an unmatched compelling grace. But as she regarded her friend—because she _did_ consider Shae a friend—more closely, she recognized that Shae’s looks were, like her, a weapon. Shae was beautiful, yes, but in a way no one should be. Her beauty exuded an air of danger, an aura of temptation that was hard to resist. She was the flame to which the proverbial moth was drawn to.

Leah caught her thoughts, surprised that she had been staring intently at the huntress for so long once more. She didn’t know what it was about Shae that made everything seem so mesmerizing, but there definitely was something. Was it possible she was the only one who felt it? Was it possible she was the only one so irrevocably drawn to it?

She caught the shadows near the campfire moving and, on an instinct, Leah took a step back so that she was hidden from view. She peeked carefully around the cart she was hiding behind and saw that someone else had joined Shae.

Tyrael.

Leah had come to realize, as they journeyed towards Caldeum, that there was a certain unease between Tyrael and Shae. Their bodies were taut, ready to strike, and their eyes never left one another, hers black with hatred, his gold and warm. They were constantly sizing each other up, measuring each other’s resolve. If Tyrael and Shae weren’t on the same side, fighting for the same goal, Leah was sure they would have tried to kill each other by now.

Shae looked up, brows arched. “I thought you’d be asleep,” she said. “Everyone else is.”

“Everyone but us,” Tyrael corrected.

The huntress gave the angel a quizzical look and, for some very long minutes, neither of them spoke. Leah was beginning to get uncomfortable, silently shifting her weight from one foot to another to dull the pain of standing still for so long. Then, Tyrael spoke again. “Help me understand.”

Shae put her crossbow down beside her and, folding her hands on her lap, asked, “Understand what?”

“Your hatred. Why you are filled with it.” Tyrael’s voice was soft and, at the same time, taut. Still, it didn’t surprise Leah that he had asked Shae such a thing. He _was_ an angel, albeit in mortal form, and the huntress was one of the key players towards annihilating the remaining Lesser Evils. They had to cooperate and, without understanding why Shae was the way she was, Tyrael couldn’t do that. He had told Leah as much.

Shae’s face flickered with a sad, haunted emotion, but it only lasted a moment. She picked up a stick and used it to stir the embers in front of her. “I lost everything in a demonic attack,” whispered Shae. For the first time since Leah had met her, the huntress appeared to be hesitating. “My sister, my mother, my father… the memories of them being slaughtered are still too vivid in my mind.” She sighed and closed her eyes for a brief moment, opening them once she spoke again. “It never quite goes away.” That short, simple sentence was laden with so much sadness Leah wanted to rush over and hug Shae. But she was eavesdropping and so, she kept still.

Leah stole a glance at Tyrael. His brows were drawn as though he did not quite believe what he had heard. Shae looked down at the palms of her hands, clenching and unclenching them into fists. “I couldn’t even bury them. In the midst of the chaos, I fled; I wandered the forests around my town, barely scraping by. I was alone, all alone in the world, but unlike my family, I refused to die. A week after the attack, the Demon Hunters found me.

“The demons took everything from me,” Shae hissed, all the previous sadness replaced by a steely resolution. She lifted and aimed her crossbow at nowhere. “So now I shall take everything from them. _That_ is why I’m filled with hatred and that is why I will succeed.”

Tyrael was silent, a ponderous hand on his chin. “You could have found another way. One that does not consume you and, little by little, draws you into the darkness you so abhor.”

“I know no other way,” Shae said through clenched teeth. “I am a weapon, and I’ll only stop hunting demons once I’m broken beyond all repairs. If it’s hatred that fuels me to incessantly reach for that goal, then I’ll gladly embrace it.”

“But—”

Shae cut him off. “Nothing else is powerful enough.” She got up and fluidly holstered her crossbow behind her back. “Have I satisfied your curiosity?” she coolly asked. As she stood, tall and defiant, meeting Tyrael’s gaze without fear, Leah couldn’t help but to admire her. Tyrael had a very intimidating presence—even some of the other Nephalem, such as Ren and Airla seemed to believe so—but Shae wasn’t afraid of him. She wasn’t afraid of anything.

“I would like to see you fight without recurring to hate,” the angel said. “So you can see you can do it.”

The huntress cocked her head. “You wish to spar?”

“Yes. You are a disciplined warrior, huntress. I can see it. I want you to see it as well.”

As Shae seemed to consider the idea, Leah almost stepped forward then. If those two fought… They’d kill each other. When in action, Shae was unrelenting. And Tyrael… Well, Tyrael towered over the huntress and Leah did not doubt that he could squash her with his bare arms. She had to put a stop to this, she had—

“I _do_ sense some tension between us, and sparring might help in that aspect,” the huntress said flatly. She brushed her black hair behind her shoulder. “I agree. I believe the inn has an empty barn we can use.”

Then, Leah’s heart stopped. Shae turned her hand and she was looking at her! The huntress had known she’d been here all along and now that she had finished telling Tyrael the reason behind her hatred, her hard stare told Leah not to interfere. Shae looked back at the angel and nodded towards the barn. “Come,” she commanded.

Tyrael followed, but Leah didn’t.

 

 

The barn was dark and smelled of mold and wet straw. It wasn’t in the best condition, but then again, after what Tyrael had seen as they journeyed towards Caldeum, few things were. He watched carefully as the huntress lit up a couple of torches, giving them enough light to see properly. All the while, as he so carefully scrutinized her movement, Tyrael found this alien sensation building inside him, a smoldering ember at the put of his stomach.

She put her crossbow and backpack down in the corner and looked at him, dark eyes blazing. The way she looked at him—the way she looked at everything and everyone,—was filled with such hatred, such darkness it was impossible not to wonder if she wasn’t already corrupted by the darkness which threatened to enslave Sanctuary.

Tyrael understood it a bit better now, why she was so hateful. Losing one’s family couldn’t be easy. It didn’t, however, justify why she _chose_ to be that way. Shae _thrived_ in her hatred, in that dark emotion, and it was worrying. It was said that those who fight evil are the ones more likely to be tainted by it and he felt as though Shae was close to her breaking point. What if she lost herself so far that she betrayed them?

“Because it would be a terrible inconvenience to kill you, we shall only use our fists and feet as weapons,” Shae said in her matter-of-fact tone. She took off her gauntlets and her high-heeled boots—Tyrael still did not know how she could fight in those. Afterwards, she discarded her chest armor, leaving only the white corset underneath.  “And, as per your request, I will only use my defensive skills.” She rotated her neck and stretched her arms before falling into a defensive combat stance. Her slightly relaxed hands were claws hovering in front of her face and her knees were apart, flexed.  “Whenever you’re ready.”

Tyrael took off his gloves, boots and, finally, his armor, which left his chest bare. A look passed in Shae’s eyes, a look he did not recognize despite all his time observing humans. It only lasted a second, however, for when Tyrael assumed his position, it was as though a veil of concentration had descended to cover Shae’s eyes.

For long minutes, neither of them moved. Tyrael only looked at the huntress, waiting for her to make the first movement, to leave an opening. When he searched her dark eyes for a sign, he found them unmoving; when he listened for her breathing he found that it wasn’t quickening in anticipation. Tyrael didn’t get it. When she fought, Shae could barely contain the horrible emotions that coursed through her, and it showed in her body. Now, however… Shae was perfectly still, a portrayal of all patience in the world. He didn’t feel any hatred emanating from her, just… discipline.

Tyrael found himself smirking. The Demon Hunter had promised this fight would be different, and she was already delivering.

He made the first move then, a precise, contained jab at her face. Yet, before his fist could land on its target, Shae _twisted._ It was a motion so liquid, so fast Tyrael barely had time to register _how_ she’d done it. He tried landing another punch when she was moving out of his reach, but Shae was already gone. With a backflip, she got out of his reach, her frame curling exquisitely while mid-air.

Tyrael took a step forward and, this time, he caught her on her mouth. Shae’s eyes narrowed and he thought he had heard a surprised whimper. She fished for something on her belt and swiftly put it on the ground between them.

When the angel lifted his foot, he found that he couldn’t move. Shae used his temporary paralysis to hit him with a series of quick jabs across his body, culminating with a hard hit on the right side of his head. Tyrael regained movement then and he caught her fists before she could hit him again.

He moved his hands to her wrists and gripped them so tightly Shae’s hands opened. She was gritting her teeth in an ugly snarl, trying to break free of his hold. Tyrael made to knee her in the stomach but, yet again, Shae dodged him in an incredible manner. She jumped and her left foot landed on his flexed leg. Then, with a smoothness that shouldn’t be _possible_ to humans, she used the momentum to do a front flip, her body coiling like a snake’s, freeing her hands in the process. Her legs stopped around his shoulders, which they constrained. Then, with her hands still in Tyrael’s grasp, Shae twisted her body and dove for the ground.

Tyrael only noticed what Shae had been trying to do when his head hit the floor. His vision went black at the edges and, for a moment, all he saw was the vicious huntress, doing a handstand in one moment and graciously standing on her feet the next.

The angel was already up when she came at him in a series of somersaults. She somehow hit him a couple more times, but didn’t escape without injuries either. Tyrael nicked her in the arm and his fist collided with her stomach before she was out of his reach again.

Tyrael might have power and strength behind his blows, but Shae was nimble and quick. They were evenly matched, even more than the angel cared to admit. For a human to do what Shae did… how was it even possible?

They sparred for half an hour, seldom managing to hit one another and Tyrael realized one thing: Shae could control herself. Going hand-to-hand against her, he did not doubt that anymore. If Shae had this much force of will, this much discipline to contain her hatred.

When they were panting and drenched in sweat, Tyrael lifted a hand. Shae dropped to a nonchalant position almost immediately afterwards, a hand on her casual hip. “Believe me now, Tyrael?” she defiantly asked, black eyes still shining with the thrill of battle.

“I do,” the angel said. He pulled up a stool at the corner of the barn and sat on it, sighing. Taking a hand to his left cheek, he was rewarded with pain; even without looking, he knew it had been bruised by one of Shae’s punches and there was a wound on the right side of his temple. Shae placed a surprisingly gentle finger close to his wound. “I’ll help you clean this,” she whispered.

Tyrael looked at her, curious. “Thank you,” he said. Shrugging, Shae reached for the bucket of rainwater next to the closest pillar (the ceiling above was damaged and the recent rains had filled the bucket) and withdrew a cloth from her backpack. Gingerly, she dabbed the cloth on Tyrael’s forehead, washing blood off his dusky skin.

Shae was seemingly caught off-guard when one of Tyrael’s hands came to her lips, touching the bottom one surprisingly gently. Her eyes met the angel’s, and her brows were furrowed inquisitively. “I split your lip,” he said.

She shrugged. “It’s a wound of no consequence.”

“You’ve had worse,” he stated.

“Much worse,” Shae confirmed. She wet the cloth and cleaned the rest of Tyrael’s wounds. “All done,” she whispered when there wasn’t a single trace of blood left on his face. Tyrael’s eyes found Shae’s and he held her gaze with his own. He felt his heart pumping louder in his chest, his hands trembling with anxiety and his sight sharpening like a knife’s end. But… why? What was happening to his body?

All of a sudden, her lips collided with his. There was nothing soft about it, no gentleness behind her movement, no sweetness to mellow her gesture. It was hunger that Tyrael felt as she kissed him, a hunger so deep, primal and ancient he had no control over it. Their teeth clashed under the pressure and her tongue was in his mouth, flicking against his, awakening in Tyrael emotions he had never felt before.

Shae straddled him and her hands locked around his neck, somehow bringing him even closer to her. She ground herself against him, and something stirred in the parts she was touching. Tyrael’s hands moved with a will of their own, clumsily undoing the laces of her bodice, his body aching, blurring all coherent thoughts. One of her hands moved to cup his throbbing manhood through his trousers and he wished—oh, how he wished,—the clothes weren’t there.

Her bodice fell on the floor without a sound; her breasts, round and perky, were exposed under the chilly air of the barn, nipples hard. Holding his face in her hands, Shae fell into him, her nakedness against his as she kissed him.

Tyrael’s mind was foggy to all but desire. Was this why humans committed this particular sin? Why was it so hard to resist its calling, especially when one had once been an angel? Why was it so hard to break free of this spell? Why didn’t he want Shae to stop kissing him despite the fact that she put every fiber of his being on edge?

When she bit his neck, Tyrael gasped, goose bumps raking his arms. He looked at her through half-lidded eyes and saw that she was giving him the most mischievous smirk—not a smile, as Shae never really smiled unless she was hunting,—he’d ever seen. Removing herself from Tyrael’s lap, the huntress stood, dragging the angel with her. His body was complaining from the lack of her presence and so, he followed.

Her dexterous fingers undid the cord of his pants and yanked the breeches off of his body. Tyrael wasn’t as quick or as efficient as Shae was, but he managed to rid her body off its garments as well.

They stood, in front of each other, naked, with a sheen of sweat covering their bodies. Tyrael knew what came next—he _had_ been observing mortals for centuries,—but he was somehow unable to move forward.

So, Shae did.

With no tenderness whatsoever, she jumped into his arms, legs around his waist. He held her up there, as she weighted next to nothing, and let her kiss him and guide him inside her.

The feel of her tight walls around his erection was so all-consuming Tyrael had to back Shae into a wall and use it for support before she fell. He could only think about this, about how Shae’s body welcomed him, about how she trailed hungry kisses and devilish bites down his neck. It filled Tyrael with pleasure that, when he thrust deep inside her, Shae moaned against his skin. He kept his movements, enjoying how luscious her frame felt against his, enjoying how sweat beaded on Shae’s forehead, enjoying how her mouth parted in sounds of pleasure.

He could no longer hold on and, apparently, neither could Shae. She screamed as she climaxed, her walls undulating around his member and he followed her into oblivion.

 

 

As they got dressed, there was a strange irony on Shae’s face. “I thought the tension between us was just our opposite natures clashing,” said Shae. She picked up her underwear and started to put it back on. “Turns out there was also another kind of tension in the mix.”

“You mean sex,” Tyrael said.

“You may be an angel, but your body is that of a mortal’s,” Shae stated and she nonchalantly laced her chest armor back up. “As a result, you have needs.”

Tyrael’s mind flashed with something akin to fear. If anyone could make him feel the same way Shae had… “Are they… always this powerful?”

“No,” she replied. She had all her clothes back on and was reaching for her crossbow. “This was just a side-effect of my driving you mad. But trust me, Tyrael,” With a nonchalance that was so easy to her, she closed the space between herself and Tyrael. Her right index finger lifted his chin and she looked at him with an almost playful, yet cold haughtiness. “If I was driving you mad before, then it’s only going to be worse from now on.”

She sauntered away, then, not even waiting for him to get dressed. And, as he watched her leave, Tyrael came to a realization:

It _was_ going to be worse from now on.


End file.
